Foolish Games Series
by Vashti
Summary: Willow and Oz fluffiness (complete)
1. Stood in the Rain

Disclaimer: Some dude named Joss Whedon owns Willow and Oz, as do Sandollar and Kuzui apparently. Really. No really. No, honestly, I'm not joking, they really do own Oz and Willow? How can I convince you? 

Author's Note: expect no seriousness from this series folks. I want Will and Oz to have a good time and, by golly, by gum, they're gonna have it! (besides, I already have her torturing the poor boy in Bitter Taste.) 

Stood in the Rain 

_First in the Foolish Games series_. 

"Hey . . ." The greeting died on Oz's lips. Silently he pulled his other arm out of his jacket, letting it dangle on his fingertips as he lounged on the door frame, watching her. 

Doing an excellent impression of a Brat Pack member, Willow danced to the radio in Oz's room. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he realized she was singing along, horribly off-tune. "All I want is to feel this way. To be this close. To feel the same. All I want is to feel this way. To have you here. To feel the same," amazingly she hit the high note. "All I want." 

Oz clapped. 

Whirling around, Willow caught sight of her boyfriend standing in the doorway. She turned bright red. "How, how," she put one hand on her heart and another up like a stop sign then dropped it. Oz noticed the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. "How long have you been standing there?" She took a deep gulp of air. 

"Long enough." 

"I can't believe you just stood there watching me." 

Oz shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It was nice seeing you so free with yourself." 

"Really?" Willow brightened. "I looked free?" 

"Absolutely, completely and totally at ease with the woman known as Willow Rosenburg." 

Smiling she pulled him into the room. "Come on, you. Time to free the man known as Daniel Osborne." 

"Mmm, I don't know about that, Wills. He might have two feet." 

"Oh what's so hard about 80's dancing? Nothing I tell you! Now come on Mister, we're gonna have fun and you're gonna like it." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Willow giggled. Oz smiled in kind. 

Fin   
  



	2. You Were Always

Disclaimers in part 1. 

Dedicated to Amz, Tabitha and nboon. I really am a feedback whore, why try denying it? 

You Were Always 

_Second in the Foolish Games series._

Willow screamed under Oz's deft fingers. 

"Do you give up?" 

"No!" Another peal of screams and laughter erupted from the redhead on the bed. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes," she said, hissing with relish. 

Oz continued his delightful assualt, deftly avoiding his girlfriend's flailing arms and legs. A yip of surprise escaped him. 

Pure mischief greeted Oz as he met Willow's eyes. "Gotcha!" 

"Oh yeah?" 

Nodding, she murmured, "Oh yeah." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Oh . . .aaah!" Peels of laughter rang throughout the apartment as Oz resumed his attack. 

The two rolled around the bed, all flashing teeth, smiles, giggles and dancing hands. "Say uncle and I'll stop." 

"Auntie!" 

Smiling broadly Oz stared deeply into Willow's eyes, stopping all action for the moment. "Willow?" 

"Yes, Oz?" 

"You know I love you, right?" 

"Yes." 

"Just wanted to remind you." 

Willow laughed until she cried, striking Oz in several places with her feet in the process. If it hurt or bothered him it didn't show. 

Rolling, rolling, laughing, gasping, "Oz," "Give up?," smiles, flashing eyes . . .falling. 

"Ow!" 

Oz stopped immediately. "You ok, Wills." 

Tentatively, she touched the back of her head. "Oow," she moaned, tears coming to her eyes. "That hurt." 

"I'm sorry, Willow." Taking her offended fingertips in hand, he kissed them then smoothed her disheveled hair. He leaned against the end of the bed, pulling Willow to his chest. "Okay? Want me to get you something?" 

"No, I'm 'kay." Reaching behind her, she, very gently, ran her fingers along the line of Oz's jaw. She giggled when they caught the edge of his lip. "You don't mind just sitting here?" 

"With you? Nah. With Devon? Probably. The words sit and still have never been heard together with his name." 

Willow giggled. 

They watched the light play on the furniture in the room, something like the way Willow's fingers played, still, on Oz's cheekbones. His were content to stay laced at her waist. He always was. 

Fin   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Watched From My Window

Disclaimers, etc, in part 1. 

Watched From My Window 

_Part Three of the Foolish Games series._

_The plot bunny is named Amz._

Oz looked up from his guitar. Knowing that if he didn't write down the chords as they came to him he'd have a great ending and completely forget the beginning. Stroking the neck, Oz enjoyed the guitar's smooth lines, it's soft curves and the pale wood that was it's body. It had a dark sound, a rich sound. 

Women's laughter came through the open window with the breeze. Rich like chords of his guitar. Like his love for Willow. 

Oz felt heat flood his face. Since when did he have such goofy, lovesick thoughts? Looking through the window at his lover and her best friend, the answer was easy. Durnit, he'd have to make sure they never left his mouth. Reputation and all. 

Oz smiled. 

Buffy laughed at something Willow said. Sitting on a blanket, having their makeshift afternoon picnic, they were a very pretty picture. Oz had a camera . . . somewhere. Oh well, he'd just have to memorize this moment forever. Willow looked up and caught him staring. She gave him a bright smile and waved. Following her gaze, Buffy waved to. Oz waved back. 

Went back to his guitar. Suddenly he had the urge to pull a Jordan Catelano -- except the van was currently green and blue hardly something to mistake a song called "Red" for. Even better. 

For a while he lived inside the music, turning the chords of "Red" into something else, into something he could own and hold and breathe. But he couldn't. He could hold this pale wooded guitar but he couldn't hold it's rich-dark melody, couldn't make it hold the notes he had so lovingly crafted. They faded on the breeze even as Willow and Buffy's musical voices drifted in. 

They were louder now. Oz looked up. The girls were walking toward the apartment, arm in arm, Buffy carrying the basket, Willow with the red-checked blanket. He went to the kitchen to meet them. 

"Hey, Oz," Buffy greeted him with a smile. "How's the music writing going?" 

Oz walked past her and held Willow, gently, by her upper arms. For a moment he stared into her confused eyes then descended onto her parted lips. 

"Well color me speechless," Buffy said wide-eyed. "Wish I could come home to a surprise like that." 

But neither Willow or Oz was paying her any mind. Willow had released herself from Oz's delicate grasp and had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close as physically possible. 

Buffy figured it was time to go when her eyes started to smoke. "Yipe. Um, how 'bout I just leave the food here and get out of your way. I'll, uh, show myself out." If either of them heard her it didn't show. 

Oz believed in reciprocation. 

  
  
  
  



	4. Looking in On You

Disclaimers in the 1st part 

Looking in On You 

_Part Four of the Foolish Games series._

_The plot bunny is still named Amz._

Sitting with Buffy in the hazy afternoon sun, Willow knew Oz was watching her from his window. It was nice having a boyfriend who liked to watch you when you weren't looking. 

"Hey, planet Earth calling Willow." 

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry Buffy. What were you saying." 

The blond rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Compared to the goo goo eyes you and Oz are making at each other, nothing." 

"Don't look!" 

Buffy quickly averted her gaze. "Wait! He's you're boyfriend! It's not like he's just some guy you have a crush on." 

Willow flushed. "I know but, you know, it's different with Oz." 

Laughing Buffy proclaimed them the cutest thing this side of the Hellmouth. 

Willow laughed too. Glancing up from her friend she caught Oz's eye. Smiling brightly she waved at him. From the corner of her eye she saw Buffy wave too. "You're just patronizing us," she said when everyone had their fill of waving. 

The smile on Buffy's face was genuine. "I am not. I think it's sweet. Really sweet." She frowned. "And really depressing. I need a boyfriend," Buffy said glumly, slumping in on herself. 

Willow turned to her. "No you do not! You're perfectly fine all by yourself. Um, that didn't quite come out right. What I meant is you're too strong to need a guy hanging all over you. That wasn't much better, was it," Willow admitted scrunching up her face. 

The Slayer shook her head. Nope, not much better at all. "But I know what you meant, Wills, and it's sweet. But cuddling with Mr. Pointy is just getting a little to involved with my work." 

"And just a bit kinky." 

"Willow!" 

She flushed. "Well, it is," she countered meekly. 

Buffy laughed. "Only joking. It is kinda kinky. Then again so's the concept of being in love with a vampire. Does this mean I'm doomed to somewhat kinky, vaguely S&M relationships for the rest of my short life?" 

"Dramatic much?" 

"Hey, I'm not the one who's dating a werewolf." 

"Well at least I'm not the one who dated a vampire." 

"Been there, covered that, got the bite marks." 

"Uh, at least I'm not the one who was dating a genetically enhanced soldier boy. You know, I never pegged you for the army type." 

Shading her eyes from the setting sun Buffy agreed. "Me neither. Remind we had this conversation if I ever do that again." 

Willow put up a very firm thumbs up. "Gotcha." 

"Oo, it's getting dark." The girls stood up and starting gathering the pieces of the picnic together. "Isn't funny how dark things get right after the sun sets. It's like the dark is waiting around the corner for the sun to go down then, wham!, it's there." 

Turning to Buffy, Willow said, "You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you." 

"Apparently too much. Ready to go in." 

"Yup. You?" 

"Ditto. Let's head for home, Hoss." 

Willow put a hand to Buffy's head. "You sure you didn't get sunstroke? I'm pretty sure the mayo in the potato salad was fresh. It's not hot is it?" 

"Oh, knock it off," she linked arms with Willow. "I promise to keep the bad one liners for Sunnydale's night life." 

"Thank you." 

Oz was standing in the kitchen when they came in. Buffy loosed her arm from Willow's and set the basket on the kitchen island. "Hey, Oz," she greeted him with a smile. "How's the music writing going?" He walked past her without a word. "Ok, when'd I become Marcy?" 

Turning she watched Willow return his intense scrutiny with confusion. She felt as if someone had switched the video from normal speed to slow-mo as Oz's lips came down to meet Willow's. "Well color me speechless," Buffy said wide-eyed. "Wish I could come home to a surprise like that." But neither of them could hear her anymore. 

As she watched, Willow wrapped her arms tightly around Oz pulling him into her as his embrace tightened around her back. If they got any closer Oz was going to swallow her whole. Or was it the other way around? It'd be like that episode of the X-Files where the two lovers got stuck together by that alien be-- "Yipe. Um, how 'bout I just leave the food here and get out of your way." Was it just her or were her eyes starting to smoke? "I'll, uh, show myself out." 

Somehow, Buffy was sure neither of cared about the back door slamming. 

Finis 

  
  



	5. Mysterious One

Disclaimer in the 1st part 

Dedicated to Tabbi my awesome Alphabet Series webmistress, amz my inspiration and shannon -- also inspiring -- my friend. 

The Mysterious One 

_Part Five of the Foolish Games series._

Lying on the roof with Willow dozing lightly on his chest, Oz could believe that it was morning once more. In this light he could believe that somehow the sun had gone backward, that the whole day could be done again, that they could start again. 

In this wonderful half-light, just before the sun breaks on the sky or darkness covers it in a cool blanket of blue, he could almost believe that the spectacular sight he had just seen was not sunset but it's less colorfully breathtaking twin sister, sunrise. This was exactly how Willow had looked this morning, asleep in his arm, the light creating strange but beautiful shadows on her face. Everything took on a faintly blue tint as if they were manipulated pictures in someone's photo software. Oz like it. 

Closing his eyes, he could believe that, once more, he could wake his love with a kiss. Would catch her dancing and singing to an outdated song. Would be made to _dance_ to that outdated song. That they would chase each other around the apartment, laughing and squealing as they waged war with careful, careful fingers only to land on their bed and begin again. That he could sit with his love watching the shadows play with the walls and the breeze play with the curtains. Would sit with her until she left him to play his music while she picnicked with her best friend. He could believe that, once more, he could draw her into his arms, stricken suddenly with an intense need just to feel her, and kiss her like a drowning man. That he would feel her grab hold and drown with him. With his eyes closed Oz could believe they had twelve more hours of daylight. 

Darkness had strayed over the sky while Oz mused. It was just as well. Willow looked as beautiful in moonlight as sunlight. His mysterious one. She could be so many things and yet she chose to be with him. When it didn't render him speechless it warmed his heart terribly. 

Oz planted a soft kiss on Willow's forehead. "Wake up, Miss." 

"Hmm, what? Steak meat, Xander, not stake-wood. Can't eat wood." 

"And when did Xander start bringing home the side of beef?" 

Willow came out of her dreamy daze. "Apparently ever since my subconscious became a contestant in the Iron Chef competition. Next I give someone else the recipe list." 

"And where was I?" 

Willow giggled. "You were the host, Mr. Man. I think that's his name." 

"I could see that, but then what would William Shatner do?" Willow could only laugh. "Hey, the stars came out when you weren't looking." 

She turned from Oz's bright eyes to the bright stars. "Oh, aren't they beautiful." 

"Breathtaking," Oz agreed, staring at the stars reflected in her eyes. 

Finis   
  



	6. Careless Hair

Disclaimer in part 1. 

Careless Hair 

_Part Six in the Foolish Games series._

"To her surprise she felt strong hands kneading her scalp _right there_. No one had washed her hair with such care in years. She loved having her hair washed. It was the best part of getting her hair professionally done. But this was . . .this was different." Excerpt from "Acts of Devotion Series: Beginning of the End: Meeting Again" 

Willow squirmed on the floor. 

"I'm gonna mess up this part." 

"I know," she said, making a face her lover couldn't see. "But if I could just have a mirror?" 

Oz leaned down, shifting all his weight to his right thigh and elbow. "Don't trust me?" 

"Of course!" Willow flushed. "Of course I trust you. It's just that . . .no one's ever done my hair before?" 

"Not even your Mom?" he asked, sitting over her once more. 

She made another face he couldn't see. "Mom considers going to the hairdresser a waste of time and a new headband as the fashion find of the month." 

"Friends?" 

"Jesse and Xander play with my hair? I don't think putting gum in it counts. Or ants in Xander's case." 

"And these were your two best friends," Oz deadpanned. Because Devon was so much better at twice whatever age you Xander and Jesse had been. 

Willow turned, looking up at him. "We were five!" 

A gentle nudge had her facing the right way. "Um, Buffy? Cordy? Some random girl you played with outside one day and never saw again?" 

"Nope, no way, and never happened." 

"Hmm, that's a shame. Random friendships are always interesting." They were silent for a moment. "You should let Buffy do something with your hair. I think she'd appreciate it." 

Willow furrowed a brow. "Appreciate having her brush all gunked up with my hair?" 

"I was thinking more on the lines of normalcy." 

"Oh. I'll think about it." 

"Here." 

Willow was momentarily surprised silent. "Huh? What?" 

Oz handed her the hand mirror again. "All done. You can look now. Go check it out in the bathroom. If you don't like it, it comes out easy enough." Course it had been a pain to put in, but he didn't mention that. 

Rising swiftly Willow scampered off into the bathroom. "Oh, wow! Wow! Oz, where'd you learn how to braid?" 

He watched her admire his handiwork from the open door. "Got a friend, Black girl, who used to live here. She sings. She used to wear her hair like that. Before she cut it off. Anyway, we're on the road one night, just off a gig and really hyper but really bored too so she asks me to help her take out her braids. We're still bored so I asked her if she could put braids in my hair. It was longer then. And yellower. She taught me how to braid while she did it. Didn't really last. We couldn't scrounge up enough rubber bands. That was a very weird night, the next gig. She cut all her hair off that night. And Devon was sober. On purpose." 

Finger to his chin, Oz was momentarily lost in thought before catching himself in the double reflection of Willow's handheld mirror and the bathroom mirror. "Anyway, thought you might want to, you know, try something different." 

Gingerly Willow touched the maze of red cornrows on her head. She could see her scalp. Willow giggled. "It's definitely different." 

"Don't like?" 

"Wait till I show Buffy! Huh? Oh, no! It's different in a cool, I-gotta-get-used-to-it kinda way. Thanks, Oz," she threw a hug around him. 

"Now I know I have a camera around her somewhere," he murmured into her neck. 

Willow giggled. 

Finis   
  



	7. Fashionably Sensative

Disclaimer in part 1. 

Note: short in the extreme! 

Fashionably Sensative 

_Part seven of the Foolish Games series._

Willow laughed. He couldn't believe she was laughing. Wait, wait, that one might have been a guffaw. 

"Can't be that bad," he remarked in a deadpan belying his . . .his . . .annoyance? Confusion? Utter humiliation? Yeah, maybe that one. 

"Fea- Feathers and . . .and the p-p-p," Willow broke into another peal of uncontrollable giggles. "PINK!" She tried pointing at him, really she did, but somehow it was so much easier to roll around on the bed and point at the ceiling instead. "And teeeeeeeaaal." 

That one was a definite snigger. "What's wrong with teal?" 

At her boyfriend's very serious tone Willow sat up and tried to compose herself. "N-no-nothing. Nothing at aaaaaall!" Another wave of laughter hit. 

Least this time she'd managed to stay in the vertical, Oz thought to himself. 

"TEAL!" 

Oz turned on his heal and walked out of the room. 

"Oz, wait, where are you going? You can't take that off! Buffy has to see it first! And Anya! Oh Anya will love it. Oz, Oz! Hey, get back here," Willow chased after her lover. 

End 

Author's Other Note: if this wasn't at all funny -- yes it was intended to be -- blame it on my hunger. That'll teach me to write on a growly stomach.   
  



	8. Nothing to Say

Disclaimer in pt 1 

Nothing to Say 

_Part eight of the Foolish Games series._

"One ninety-nine, two friggin' hundred! Whoever decided that I should count to 200 should be taken outside and shot," Xander called out to no one in particular. 

"Only because you tried pulling 'One, two, skip a few, one hundred,' on us before!" someone called vaguely from the left. 

Xander followed the voice. "Just keep on talkin' Dawn. Lead Uncle Xander right to you." 

"Uncle Messy Hair!" 

"We'll see what you have to say when Uncle Xander catches you." 

"Xander, talking in the third person is a sign of insanity." 

"Oh so _you_ want to be caught first, eh Buffy? Always protecting little Dawnie." 

"Hey, you want? You can have her. Least she'll stop stealing my clothes." 

Dawn let out an exasperated shriek. "I do no steal your clothes!" 

"Do to." 

"Do not." 

"Do to." 

"Do not!" 

"Do to!" 

"Do not not not!" 

"Do to to t--" 

"Hah!" Xander surprised the bickering sisters. "Gotcha both! Now who's the man?" 

Dawn and Buffy stuck out their respective tongues. "Hey," Dawn said, "I guess this means Buffy's it." 

Eyes open wide in shock she denied it fervently. "He caught you first." 

"No way!" 

"Yes way!" 

"No way!" 

"Yes . . ." 

Seeing that their conversation skills were going the way of the dodo, and fast, Xander went in search of his girlfriend, Willow and Oz. 

"Oh, Xander," Anya raising her and from behind a stack of misdirected inventory for the gallery, "I'm right here." 

With a heavy sigh he went to her. "Anya, honey, the point of hide-and-go-seek is to _not_ get caught. See, you hid and now I have to go seek." 

"That's not how we play it home," she reminded him with a puzzled expression. 

Looking quickly over his shoulder to make sure young ears hadn't overheard, Xander quickly whispered that he realized there was a difference. "But that's why it has a different name at home too." 

"Oh! So hide-and-go-b--" 

"Yes, Anya," he cut her off as quickly as possible, "they're similar but not at all the same." 

She nodded. "Okay, so I'll just scootch down back here again and you can come find me," she smiled having finally mastered, at least in theory, the game. 

"Well, Buffy and Dawn have already been caught. Why don't you go try and help them figure out who's gonna be It next game, okay?" 

"Sure." 

Xander sighed. He loved her but she was gonna be the death of him, he was sure. 

Okay, time to get down to business: the tracking down of Willow and Oz. Now he figured they'd be hiding together 'cause if he hadn't been It he would have hidden with Anya -- in a much better spot, to be sure. Willow giggled like a five year old if it took too long for her to be caught but if Oz were with her he'd probably keep her quiet. Besides, there weren't that many places in this house for two people to hide comfortably. 

In the meantime he'd searched every room in the Summers' place, gone past the Dawn, Buffy and Anya -- all three were argueing now -- twice and stopped for a refreshing glass of sugary soda. Still no Willow or Oz. Time to pull out the big guns. 

"Ollie ollie oxen free." 

"WHAT?!" came three female voices from the living room. 

Xander bellowed again. Even if they were in the basement they should have heard him. 

"Jeez, Xander," he turned to find Dawn at his back, "what was that?" 

"Oh, you know, when the games over and you can't find someone you yell 'Ollie ollie oxen free.'" 

Her expression told him that he was now officially certifiable, at least in the Kingdom of Junior High. "Riiight. Look, they've gotta be around, right? So all we gotta do is loo--" 

_Bump_. 

"Did you hear that?" 

Xander's eyebrows came together. "Did it sound like a thump coming from the general direction of the hall closet?" Dawn nodded. "Let's go!" 

They eyed the door cautiously. Another sound soon followed. How they could have missed it before, neither knew. 

By now Buffy and Anya had joined them. "Um, honey," Anya tugged on the edge of his short-sleaved shirt, "why are we staring at--" 

_Bump!_

"Buffy, why didn't you tell us you have a monster living under your stairs." 

"Because I don't! I say on the count of three Xander opens the door." 

He turned to her. "Why me!" 

"Because you're the only guy here!" 

"You're the freakin' Slayer!" 

"Oh so that means--" 

"Oh _I'll _open it," Anya proclaimed. And did. 

The four peared in cautiously. Willow and Oz, mid-deep throat kiss hardly seemed to mind. Buffy covered Dawn's eyes. "I want to watch!" 

"Oops!" Willow turned an as-yet-unnamed shade of red. "Game over?" 

Xander was all smiles. "Go Oz." 

"Thanks man. But, uh, could we have some privacy." 

With a raise of her eyebrows Anya closed the door. "Anyway, like I was saying, I think Buffy's It." 

"What?!" 

End   
  



	9. Comment on the Weather

Disclaimer in pt 1. 

Dedication: my mom for taking care of me despite my truck driver cough waking her up on her day off. or maybe because of it. Shannon b/c you don't feel that hot either. 

Note: see end 

Comment On the Weather 

_Part nine of the Foolish Games series_

He hated this _cough _this sick thing. Not even really sick. If he had a job more steady than the Dingoes, Oz wouldn't even be sick-leave sick. No, his nose was runny -- when it wasn't completely stuffed, his body ached in places it only ached when it was his turn to play roadie, and his bark of a cough certainly had bite. 

Oz winced at the very bad play on puns. 

"How do you feel, Oz?" Willow asked. 

Okay. "Awful." He had meant to lie. Really he had. _Cough!_

Willow's eyes opened wide, full of concern. "You should have called me earlier!" 

Somehow he felt that shrug all through his lower back as well as his shoulders and chest. Crap. "It's okay. Really." Except his eyes hurt in their sockets. Oz sat up in his twisted-sheet covered bed. Did he mention dizzy? But just slightly because he was able to catch himself on his elbows. 

"Oz!" Willow was at his side quickly, helping him lower himself onto the bed. "What's with all the blankets. I didn't know you had this many." 

"Cold," Oz answered succinctly, eyes closed against the light his girlfriend had unconsciously flicked on as she rushed to his side. 

Brow furrowed in confusion and concern she pointed out that he wasn't wearing a shirt. That he only had on his boxers from what she could see. 

"Woke up all sweaty. T-shirt's _cough _on the floor somewhere." 

"Oz, are you okay? Stupid question, Will. I mean, is there something I can do for you? Get?" 

"Kill the light?" 

Willow noticed, for the first time, that all the shades were down and the curtains, more or less, firmly drawn. Trying not to jostle him too badly, as if he had a head injury instead of a head cold, she got up and turned off the overhead light. "Anything else?" 

"I don't _coughcough_ know." 

"My, what a big cough you have." 

Oz smiled. 

"I'm gonna go out and get you some cough medicine. Are those the only symptoms, coughing?" He told her the rest. "Okay, I'll get some Nyquil." 

"No," he shook his head firmly. "Makes _cough _me sick." Actually the alcohol made him a little tipsy and then when it wore off he felt worse. Oz found it hard to believe something that was supposed to make you feel better should also make you unaccountable for the next eight hours of your life. Give or take a few hours. 

"Um, okay. I'll see what they have and be back as soon as possible. You'll be okay without me, right?" 

"I promise to try to stay alive." 

"Oz, don't joke like that!" Willow admonished, halfway to the door already. 

"Who said I was joking," he told the closed door as he roused himself from the damp bed. _COUGH!_

He was sitting at the kitchen table when she returned, staring resolutely at a glass of orange juice. "Robbetessin," Willow declared, pulling a white box out of a paper bag. "You're not allergic are you?" 

"Not as far as I know." 

"Great," Willow beamed. "Well, not that you need it but that you're not alle--" 

"Will," Oz touched her hand, "it's okay. I understand." One hand on his forehead, the other on hers he said, "I understand. I need someone who . . .to . . ." He didn't know how to say it without hurting her sometimes fragile sensibilities. "I trust you. It's okay, okay?" _coughcoughcough_

Willow nodded. "Okay. Okay," she repeated more firmly. Quickly she opened the box and read the label. Pouring out the prescribed amount she held it out to Oz. "Drink." 

"Yes, ma'am." He knocked it back like a shot of whiskey. Then scowled like it was a shot of moonshine. "If that doesn't burn the cough away nothing will." 

Willow's smile was sympathetic. "Orange juice chaser?" 

Brow furrowed in concern over the taste of orange juice and Robbetessin, Oz drank most of the glass in front of him anyway. At least it was cold. Nothing worse than hot orange juice. 

"C'mon you, you're going to bed." 

"But I'm fine out _cough _here." 

Willow snorted. "Oh yeah, you were Mister Active when I showed up just now. Uh huh, that's you, Mister Daniel I'm-So-Sick-I'm-Jumpin'-Through-Hoops "Oz" Osborne, oh yeah. Let's go, buddy." 

And he let her lead him back to bed. 

_cough_

Finis 

Author's Note: as you can guess I wrote this when I was actively sick. I actually wrote this midway into #6 cuz that's when I was sick. (which is why "careless hair" took so long amz.) Anywho, I figured if I'm gonna write a sick fic -- cuz I only get certain ideas when i'm going through -- I should do it while I'm sick. And hopefully, at the posting of this fic, I'm not *still* sick. 

  
  
  
  



	10. Well in Case

Well in Case 

_Part ten of the Foolish Games series._

_For Mommy. It's okay. You're so much braver than I've ever been._

__

__Willow was standing in a corner when Oz walked into her living room. Pulling up in the driveway he had found the door unlocked and no one answered his calls. Fearing the worst, but knowing better than to rush headlong into a potentially dangerous situation, he stalked the halls, carefully checking around corners, wondering what kind of demon could have caused his girlfriend to call him, terrified and unable to explain why. 

But there she was, standing on the far side of the couch, cringing like a child. "Will?" 

Willow turned fretfully to her boyfriend. Tears were slowly making trails down her pale cheeks. "Oz. It's in there," she whimpered. 

"What's in where?" 

"A mouse. It's in the kitchen." 

Whatever inclination he might have had to laugh at Willow's overly dramatic reaction to an animal anywhere from three to five inches long, sans tail, died in the face of her very real terror. Oz knew she had a healthy girlish fear of mice but this was something more. 

"Okay," he said slowly, calmly. "Have you been trying to get rid of it?" 

She nodded. 

"For very long?" 

"Since I got home," she whispered. 

"Okay. How long have you been home?" 

"An hour." 

"So you've been dealing with this all evening?" 

She nodded. 

"Did you have a long day at school?" 

She nodded again. "I'm being silly." 

Oz frowned. "Not at all. You've had an exhausting day and you've done battle with man's greatest enemy. You have every right to be upset." 

"No, I'm just being stupid." 

Oz shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop to the floor, and went to her. At the moment she looked too fragile to touch but his nearness seemed to make her feel better. Good, he was afraid that she would scream if he approached her. Not the best of signs. "It's all right, Wills. I'll take care of it, okay?" 

"Stop talking to me like I'm two," she said petulantly. 

"Not trying to minimize you, just going for the calm. So, how were you handling this before?" 

"I . . .I was trying to sweep him into a box. . .but he kept moving." 

"All right. Okay. I'll take care--" 

"He's lying on the floor. I think he's kind of dying." 

Great, Eau de Dead Mouse. Oz didn't think it was a smell the Rosenbergs would appreciate when they came back from wherever they were. "Well, I can handle him if he's just kind of dying. Do you want to sit down or go up to your room? You can go crash with Xander and Anya and I'll call you, or go to my place." 

She shook her head fervently. 

Okay, she was afraid of the mouse but didn't want to leave. He'd contemplate personal contradictions later, right now he had a mouse to get rid of and a girlfriend to placate. 

Oz moved away from her, circling the couch and approaching the kitchen from the widest possible angle, ever aware of Willow's eyes on him. "Just stay there," he said, picking up the broom, "and I'll handle this." He didn't look back to see if she agreed or not. Shaking his head, he thought it had to be easier than cleaning up Devon's barf. 

The mouse was indeed dying. Or having a mousy heart-attack. Lying on it's side it crawled feebly on its forelegs. In the kitchen, now, Oz was assaulted with its scent. How he could have missed it before he didn't know. Not that it mattered. He had the feeling Willow would want to go out to eat or for a fresh hit of caffeine tonight. 

Despite his brave words, however, the idea of pushing the mouse into the box suddenly made Oz sick. He imagined, momentarily as he approached the thing, that he would feel the body through the heavy broom handle. He didn't want to do it. He wanted to turn back, take Willow by the hand and leave. 

Lick lips. 

It wasn't nearly as horrible as he thought. It was a simple matter of pushing the poor thing into the box, picking it up and depositing it in the trash bag. 

"Is it gone?" Willow called. 

"Yeah. All gone." Oz very quickly tied up the bag and put it out. "Got any air freshener? It smells mousy in here." Moments later he heard the harsh aerosol hiss coming down the hallway. The sharp tang of oranges, lemons and grapefruit followed soon after. 

Holding the spray can tightly, Willow looked up at her boyfriend with red rimmed eyes. "Thank you." 

He shrugged. "It was nothing." 

"No, it was very brave." 

"Just a little mouse." 

"I don't care, it was still very brave." 

Oz smiled. "If you say so," and hugged his girlfriend. "Want to go out?" He felt her nod into his shoulder. "Okay, let's go." 

End 


	11. Failed to See

Failed to See 

Dedication: Ocean Spray© 

Author's Note: it's been a while since i've written one of these and I still have a long way to go. Part 11 

&&&

Green. That's all Willow saw when she awoke. 

"Oz?" 

"Mmhmm," sounded next to her ear. 

She brought her hands to her eyes. "There seems to be a green scarf over my eyes." 

"I noticed that." 

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that would you?" 

"I don't know, Will. What gives you that idea? I'm more of a purple man myself." 

Willow giggled. "Well, if you didn't do it then I guess you won't mind taking it off." 

"You know me, don't like to get involved with someone else's handiwork." His breath tickled her ear. "Something I should know, Willow?" 

"Oz!" She swatted his arm. She hoped it was arm. 

"It's a shame too." 

"Oh?" His voice retreated from her and the bed shifted. Willow blindly followed the sound of her boyfriend's feet on the hardwood. "Why's that?" 

"I did something wild and crazy," Oz said nonchalantly. 

Willow's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Ooh, whatdya do?" 

His feet were returning. The bed shifted down on her right. "I made breakfast." 

Squealing in delight, Willow bounced on the bed then stopped. "Oz, you've never made breakfast before. I didn't know you could cook." 

"Yeah, well," for the moment he was glad his girlfriend was blindfolded as he frowned at the platter in his hand, "sometimes risks aren't so bad." 

"Do I get to take the blindfold off now?" 

"And spoil the surprise . . .? Open up." 

Dutifully, Willow opened her mouth. "Mmm, strawberry?" 

"Made it myself." 

She dribbled strawberry juice, laughing. "I didn't know you knew how to make strawberries." 

Nodding to himself, he agreed that: "I have many secret talents." 

"What else do you know how to make?" 

"Watermelon squares, honey-dew melon, white grapes, out-of-season rasp- and blueberries, pineapple, guava and craisins." 

Willow frowned. "Craisins? I'm pretty sure that's a brand new fruit." 

"Sweetened, dried cranberries equals craisins." 

"Oh, I see. Well, not really but you know--" She was cut off by small roundish things suddenly appearing in her mouth. "Mmm," her eyebrows rose above the blindfold, "craisins?" 

Oz nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Craisins, definitely, craisins." 

Childishly, Willow opened her mouth for more. She felt the wet smooth edge of honey-dew on her lips. Curling her tongue around it, she drew it in and opened her mouth for another. 

Gasped when she felt Oz's tongue quickly lick away the clear, sweet juice. 

End 


	12. This is My Heart

This is My Heart 

_Part thirteen of the Foolish Games series_

{}(){} 

"Oh, Oz, c'mere. Here, come listen to my heart." 

"Where'd you get the stethoscope from?" 

"I was Free Health Screening Number Two Hundred. I think Number One Hundred got one of those hammer things you use on your knees." 

"Gotta love the reward system. Keep'em coming back for more." 

"Hey, maybe after your next class you can go and be Free Health Screening Number Five Hundred. That's gotta be a good prize, right?" 

"You'd think but then maybe the first two prizes were just teasers, you know, to get people on line." 

"_Oz_! Anyway, listen to my heart." 

"You keep a mighty fine beat, Ms. Rosenberg." 

"Why thank you, Mr. Osborne. Hey, you wanna hear your heartbeat?" 

"Nah, that's okay, I already have." Oz kissed his girlfriend's forehead and went to class. 

End 


	13. Down on My Knees

Down on My Knees 

_Part thirteen of the Foolish Games series._

"Ouchouchouchouchouch. Ow!" 

"Gee, Will," Xander said, helping his friend hobble down the street, "baby much?" 

Willow smacked her friend soundly on his arm. 

"Ow!" 

"So there! And anyway, it hurts. Xander, where are we going? Can't you see I'm in pain here. And may I repeat, owie!" 

"Nice toss-up, Wills. Gonna throw in an 'Ai-chi mama!' for old times sake?" 

The look she gave Xander clearly asked where his mind had went and why hadn't he gone to reclaim it yet? 

"Or maybe not. And we're going to the Bronze. It's closest. You figure a bar's gotta have a first-aid kit." 

"It's an under-age bar." 

"Even more reason, I say. And why do we go to an under-age bar? Aren't we all over-age now?" 

"Dawn's not." 

"And Dawn doesn't have friends? _Ouch!_ Gee, sorry. Forget I know how to verbalize." They continued their hobble, mostly silently, through downtown Sunnydale. Willow's intense, pain-filled glares kept Xander from making comments about the looks they were receiving from passers-by. "And here we are, one Bronze at your service," he said, beginning to feel the strain of half carrying his best friend across town. "God, I hope they have a band-aid," he muttured to himself. 

"What'd you say?" 

"Me? Speak? Pshaw! As if I know how to do such miracles of science. Hey!" Xander knocked as hard as he could on the metal door while propping up Willow, "Anybody in there? Injured lady out here. She throws a wicked punch. Ow! I'm not kidding!" he yelled, taking it up a notch in his pain. "Now what was _that_ for?" he asked, turning back to Willow. 

"Do I tell the whole world your fighting abilities? Noo, I don't. I respect your privacy." 

"Hey, well maybe you should. I think I'd like to be known as a manly man. A man's kind of man. . . Wait, not man's kind of man but a _man's_ kind of--" 

"Yes, Xander, I know." Willow kicked the door, "Hey-- OW!" She had momentarily forgotten which was the banged up knee. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." 

Eyebrows in his hairline, Xander asked if there was something she wanted to tell him. 

"Like what?" 

"Like since when you started invoking the name of our goyim Lord and Saviour." 

A sound of exasperation coming from her mouth, Willow made a face at Xander who, of course, couldn't let her get away with that so made a face back, which inspired Willow to-- 

And so when Devon opened the door a moment later he found them childishly making faces at each other. "Yo, Oz, your girlfriend and one of her loony friends is here," he yelled over his shoulder before turning back to snicker at them. "Hey man," he called again, "get here quick." 

Ignoring Devon, they hardly noticed Oz's timely arrival. "Uh, Will?" 

Willow shook her head, turning surprised eyes on her boyfriend. "Oz! When'd you get here?" 

"About one this afternoon. That doesn't explain why your making a moogly at Xander." 

"Nah, man," Devon disagreed, "that was definitely a woogly." 

"Mmm, I don't know," Xander added, joining the impromptu conversation, "I think it was a googly." 

Devon and Oz looked at each other a moment, as if discussing it between themselves. "Googly?" "Definitely a googly." Facing Xander and Willow, Devon opened his mouth-- 

"Bleeding here people!" burst Willow. 

Oz and Devon, as one, looked down at her injured knee that, after kicking the door, had begun to bleed again. "Oh," they said. Oz took Willow out of Xander's arms and helped her inside. "We have band-aids around here somewhere, right Dev?" 

"Yeah, sure." He went behind the bar and retrieved the First-Aid kit. 

Oz helped Willow into a chair and knelt at her feet. "How'd this happen?" 

"Ask Xander." She glared at her best friend. 

Whistling, the brunette found it necessary to be elsewhere. 

Devon handed Oz the First-Aid kit. "This will not--" 

"Ow!" 

"be pleasant." 

"Understatement!" 

He blew on her wounded knee. "I'm sorry, Will," he whispered, gently affixing the band-aid. He looked up at her and found Willow's eyes on his, expectant. "What?" 

"You didn't kiss it," she said, pouting. 

"Capital sin." He kissed the bandage gently. They ignored Xander and Devon's groans of protest. 

End 


	14. Brilliant in the Mornings

Brilliant in the Morning 

_Part fourteen of the Foolish Games series._

__

Willow rubbed the morning grit from her eyes, feeling properly disgusting. 

"Hey, baby," Oz said, sitting at her computer. 

"Where's Buffy?" She didn't seem to find his being there very strange. "How'd you get in?" Or maybe she did. 

"Buffy let me in." 

"Oh." 

Oz stood. "I brought you breakfast." 

"No! Don't!" She covered her mouth, the better to shield him. "Morning breath, bad hair, nasty, gritty stuff in my eyes. Did I mention morning breath?" 

Oz lay the yogurt, breakfast bar and orange juice he had brought for Willow on her nightstand. Very gently, he pried Willow's hands from her mouth. He placed sweet kisses on her forehead, her nose and her chin. "Willow?" 

"Yes?" She stared, enraptured, into his eyes. 

His mouth descended on hers. The passion and love that was so rarely expressed in public was funneled, concentrated, into his kiss. 

Oz broke away when he thought it might be time for her to learn to breathe again. "You are always brilliant in the mornings." 

End 


	15. Talking over Coffee

Talking Over Coffee 

_Part fifteen of the Foolish Games series._

"I thought you were decaf girl, Will." 

"Well, I am, but every now and then..." Willow stopped in front of the coffee pot, opening and closing her mouth, flustered. "I just want some caffeine. I feel like being caffeine girl today," she said, putting her foot down with a soft thump. 

"Feel the need for speed?" Oz asked with a small smile. 

Willow smiled. "Something like that." Her smile grew broader as she drew her hands through her hair, remembering. "Yeah, something like that." Willow draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "You know what?" 

"What?" 

His one spoken word rumbled through her with the smooth, slow, drawl of sleep. Or maybe she imagined it. Willow rubbed against him, marking him, loving him. Their hair meshed and tangled, made worse by sleep -- ginger fire. 

Willow pressed her nose against Oz's stubbled cheek. "I think I love you." 

He smelled warm and comforting. Masculine but home. He smelled better than coffee. Willow told him so. 

"Better than coffee?" She nodded, scratching herself on his skin. "It's either love or delirium." 

"Oz!" Willow laughed and pushed herself off him, pouring herself a second cup. 

End 


	16. Philosophies on Art

Philosophies on Art 

_Part sixteen of Foolish Games series._

"Oz." 

"Hmm?" he answered in equally hushed murmur. 

"Oz, come here." 

He allowed himself to be led to the other side of the gallery. 

"Look." 

"Saw this one already." 

Willow let out an exasperated sigh. "Look again!" 

There was no one else in the gallery and the guard seemed to be ignoring them. ("Seemed" being the operative word.) Laughter drifted through the quiet -- because it was a largely empty -- exhibit. Oz recognized it as Dawn's. His uncanny sense of smell told him she and Xander were in gallery space to their north, while Buffy and Anya were somewhere further away and not necessarily together. 

"Are you looking?" 

He had not been, but he paid attention now. It seemed to be the same thing he remembered: A Romantic oil painting of a mythological scene. The woman/goddess/person was sprawled on the grass while cherub-like satyrs danced around her. There was another small cherub-thing peeking over her leg while she languished. Oz assumed she was supposed to Venus or some such person. It was all very lush and voluptuous -- very Romantic. 

"I don't see anything, Will," he said, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "Maybe if you tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at it'll stand out. Like those 3D pictures, but not." 

Instead of pulling him closer to it, she pulled him away so that he got a more complete view of the rather large picture. "He's peeing on her," she hissed. 

Oz whipped his head about. "What?" 

Willow forcibly turned him back the other way. "See there?" She pointed for him. "Right there." She drew an arc with her forefinger and he followed it. "He's _peeing_ on her!" 

All the tension went out of Oz's face. "Oh. Oh! Hmm." 

"Exactly hmm." 

"Hmm indeed," a woman behind them said. She and her class of sixth-graders had been so quiet -- or rather, Willow and Oz had been so engrossed by the painting -- that neither had noticed the group come in. There were three students standing with her, while the rest milled about. Oz noticed he had lost the other Scoobies' scents in the melee of the crowd. "This exhibit is on loan from the MET in New York City. And yes," she said to Willow and Oz as much as to her students, "he is peeing on her." 

The little girls ewed in perfect unison. Oz thought they had a nice harmony. 

"It's supposed to represent her fertility." 

They all -- the girls, Willow and Oz included -- ewed together, much louder and with even better syncronisity. 

"Isn't it cool?" 

The girls giggled. The teacher gathered her flock and they moved on. 

"So," Willow began, hand under her chin, "you think Xander and Anya'd like to see it?" 

"Willow, ewwwww." 

Fin 


	17. Speak of Your Loved Ones

Speak of Your Loved Ones 

_Part seventeen of the Foolish Games series._

Watching them on the bed, he understood that it was all for a good cause. Willow was helping with the wedding. And the wedding was this stressful thing looming over all their heads -- mostly because the girls insisted on it being so, but Oz wisely kept that thought to himself. So seeing them on the bed surrounded by swatches and swatches of white fabric, crystal, and endless pictures of completely unrealistic models in gowns that, at that price, should get more wear out of them than the few hours the actual event would take. 

He got it. Really he did. But why his bed? And why did they have to be that particularly disquieting picture that used to haunt them because, although he would never admit it, they were aesthetically pleasing to look at. Especially asleep together. 

"Xand." 

"Just five more minutes, Mom." 

"Xander." 

"Ten minutes, Anya." 

"Xander, man, wake up." When it didn't appear the groom-to-be was going to budge, Oz threw in, "I think I hear Anya calling." 

Xander turned from Willow and cracked his eyes at Oz. "You hear her too? I thought it was just me," he mumbled. 

"Yeah. I hear it. And I think she's pissed. Something about cheese-doodles and delicacies." 

None to gracefully, Xander managed to stumble out of Oz's bed, landing in a heap at his feet. Oz was sure Xander wouldn't remember the incident later when he really woke up, and if he did he'd chalk up Oz's staring down at him with an arched eyebrow and a soft growl to being half-sleep. Not that Oz really cared. He just wanted the man out. 

Oz climbed into bed with Willow, pulling her closer as he settled himself. 

"Xander?" 

"Heard his Anya calling him. Dinner's ready." 

"Oh. Oz?" 

"Always." 

"Good." She turned over and rested her head on his shoulder. Oz fell asleep. So did his arm. 

Finn[ish] 


	18. Clumsily Strummed

Clumsily Strummed

_Part eighteen of the Foolish Games series_. _Dedicated to the OzMIAn Halloween Chat crew, for freaking me out, making me blush and inspiring me to write this and_ _"Somebody Who."_

"Oh!" Willow jumped as she heard the key turn in the lock. "Oz!" She flushed.

Oz slowly let his bag slip from his shoulder as he tried to figure out Willow. She was doing the guilty-pose but he didn't exactly know why-- "You were playing my guitar?"

"A little," she confessed, her hands slowly sliding away from the neck of Oz's acoustic guitar -- a bit beat up from wear and tear -- and under her seat. 

" 'A little'?"

"Uh huh."

"Hmm."

Willow looked up at him from under her lashes as Oz came nearer. They were going to have their first argument, she knew it. She shouldn't have been playing with his guitar. And Oz had never given her his permission. But hey, it was just a stupid guitar. It wasn't like she was trying to be Jimmy Hendrix or, or, Slash or that old guy who wore a schoolboy's uniform even though he had, like, grandkids and--

"Are you any good?"

"Huh?" Willow blinked twice, coming back to herself. 

Oz was crouched in front of her, watching her face intently. "I asked if you were any good."

Her "righteous" indignation, and a small part of her ego, deflating, Willow shook her head no. "Just kinda, you know, clumsily strumming along. I figured it'd be better than my singing."

"You have a beautiful voice."

With a snort and a kind of pshaw hand motion, she told Oz, "You're just saying that because you love me."

"You're right. I do. And I love to hear you. Say anything."

"Oh. Oh that's the prettiest thing I've ever heard."

Oz's knowing smile said he could think of prettier things, but he kept the comment to himself. "Will, play for me," he said instead.

"But. . .but I can't play!"

Oz shrugged. "Everyone starts somewhere. It doesn't matter if you know the notes, if you . . .feel them." He got up and leaned over Willow. Whispering in her ear he said, "I want to hear you."

Willow looked down a her boyfriend as he settled himself at her feet. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She willed her fingers to move but they were still. Oz looked up at her with his earnest eyes and her world went into motion again. "Okay."

She ran her thumb along the guitar-strings.

Finn[ish]


	19. Excuse Me

Excuse Me

_Part nineteen of the Foolish Games series_. _Lyrics by Poe_. 

"Oz . . ."

Oz looked up from his the book he wasn't reading and the impossiblely-so-but-undeniably small notes he had borrowed from a classmate the day before. He grunted an incomprehensible note of attention at Willow.

"A terrible thought has moved into my mind."

Well that was certainly more intriguing than . . . He pulled out his Swiss Army knife and searched for a magnifying glass. No luck there. "Will, do you have a magnifying glass?"

"Um, no. I borrowed a microscope from the lab though. Can you use that?"

Half an hour, one visit to the copy machine, a pair of safety scissors -- "borrowed" in the college sense of the word -- and a Band-Aid later he could indeed. Willow had helped him cut the notes into little strips, then suggested they be numbered to better keep the order. Halfway through what had once had been the first page, Oz began to regret missing that particular class. 

"It's . . .It's . . . It's a giant rat nibbling on my pride."

Oz looked up. "The terrible thought?

Willow nodded. "It's tearing away my patience and my wit," she said with a frown.

Reading through the blown up notes, and noting that he had accidentally shed some skin cells on them, he commented "Well you must take proper measures to set a trap for it."

Willow took a deep breath. "I must stay calm, you know, and I must be clear."

"I could make you some tea," Oz suggested. Although, as he went to the kitchen, he wondered if he would ever fully regain his sight. "It's gonna take a hundred thoughts to make that one disappear," he called instead, from the kitchen.

"I know. A train like that could travel a soul for years," Willow fretted

"A terrible thought could have a terribly long career," Oz agreed.

"What a terrible thought," she said glumly. "But this is good tea," she said, perking up for the first time. "Really good tea. Hey, my terrible thought's gone!"

Oz gently pried the cup out of Willow's hand. He looked down at the grains of crushed leaves and swirled them around experimentally.

"Oz, what are you doing?"

"Just contemplating it's properties on microscopic handwriting."

Finn[ish] 


	20. Somebody Else

Somebody Who 

_Part twenty of the Foolish Games series_. _Dedicated to the OzMIAn Halloween Chat crew, for freaking me out, making me blush and inspiring me to write this and_ _"Clumsily Strummed."_ _And to my uterine walls_._ Ow_. 

"Are you okay, baby?" 

"Mmm hmm," said Willow nodding against the couch cushions. 

"Can you sit up?" 

"Mmm mmm." Willow shook her head. 

"Do you want me to get you something?" 

She shook her head. 

"Do you want me to go?" 

A small, plaintive whimper sounded from her throat. "Please don't leave." 

Oz sat by Willow's head. "Do you want me to get Buffy? . . . .or Anya?" 

She shook her head. "I just want you." 

"But they know more about this kind of-- thing." 

"Anya?" Willow asked incredulously. 

"She did cater to women as a vengeance demon. And, you know, all human for a couple of years now." 

"But still . . . I just want you to stay with me. Please." 

Oz gently smoothed her hair back from her face. 

"That feels--" Her body clenched as a wave of pain raced through her. 

"Willow, baby?" Oz leaned in close. "I'm gonna get you some a Pamprin. I'll be right--" 

"No! Please don't leave me." She looked up at him with tears wide and wet with tears. "Please. Make Buffy get it." 

Oz hovered on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to do. They were at the Summer's house, and the gang was just on the back porch. He came to a decision. "Okay," he said softly. Oz plucked up his cell phone from the coffee table. "Will, sweetie, can you scoot forward on the couch for me?" 

She nodded, moving to the very edge. 

Oz slipped off his shoes and socks. Very carefully he slid himself between his lover and back of the couch. Gently he pulled Willow against himself. Resting on one elbow, Oz dialed Buffy's cell phone. 

"Oz?" 

"Buffy. Could you bring me a glass of water and two Pamprin?" 

"I thought you were in the living-room with Willow." 

"I am. It's a long story." 

"O-kay. Water and meds coming up." 

"Buffy's coming," Oz told Willow as he settled himself. 

She mumbled something in a vaguely affirmative mien. 

Oz twined his fingers around hers, rubbing small circles on her stomach. He stroked her forehead with his free hand, although that was a bit more difficult than it had been. 

And so Buffy found them, both apparently asleep in her living-room, their joined hands resting on Willow's lower abdomen and Willow's other hand reaching back for Oz. "I'll just lava these here," she whispered. 

"Thank you." 

Buffy jumped back a foot. Oz's green eyes looked at her from over Willow's red hair. "I appreciate it." 

"Uh, no problem. You cozy enough?" 

"We're good." 

"So, uh, you're just gonna stay back there? Won't that be kinda boring?" 

"I'll probably sleep until Willow wakes up." 

"Ah. Well then. I, uh, I guess I'll leave you to it." Buffy turned on her heal, wondering why _she_ couldn't find anyone that devoted. 

When she was gone, Oz buried his face in the juncture of Willow's neck and slept. 

Fin[land] 


	21. More Like Myself

More Like Myself 

_Part twenty-one of the Foolish Games series_. _Dedicated to my longtime friend Joanna_. 

Something had been on Willow's mind to say all day. She remembered just before she dropped off to sleep. 

"Oz?" 

"Yeah, Will?" 

"Are you awake?" 

"In Australia." 

She didn't get it, but she counted it to being nearly asleep. "I wanted to tell you something." 

"Okay," he answered around a yawn. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, Willow. G'nigh-" 

"That's not all." 

"Ah ha. There's more to this love thing that I don't know about and you're going to elucidate?" 

"Oz!" 

"Sorry, apparently I've only just woken up in Australia. I'm not making as little sense as I can yet." 

Willow smiled in the dark knowing he could see it. "I love you because you are the first person to ever make me like myself." 

"I like your self too, Wills. G'nig--" 

"That's all you have to say? No- no deep discussion?" 

"Well, if you don't mind paying the long distance, you can call me in Hurstville, New South Wales. I think I'm just pouring myself a cup of coffee. Tell me hello. Or g'day." 

"Oz!" She punched him lightly on the shoulder then turned over to sleep. 

Fin[land] 


	22. Foolish Games

Foolish Games

_Part twenty-two of the Foolish Games series._ _Obviously at some point I started channeling Amz, so this is for her._

"Hey, I think _Chutes and Ladders_ is a very valid game."

"I don't think so, Wills," Xander protested. "I mean, what _are_ chutes anyway."

"They're like slides."

"So why isn't it called _Slides and Ladders_?"

"Because it's not. What's the big deal with _Monopoly_ anyway? Oz! Oz, come tell Xander he's wrong."

Oz looked up from his comic book to Willow and Xander sitting in Giles' living-room. "Xander, you're wrong."

"Hey! You don't even know what we're talking about."

"Do ignore them, Oz," Giles said from the kitchen over his cup of tea, "they've been going at it for the better part of the hour."

Oz made a noncommittal grunt as he sat beside Willow.

"I'm going up to my room. Not that any of you care," Giles groused. "You do all realize you have your own homes, don't you?" he reminded them halfway up the stairs.

Oz stood. "Hey, could I look through your album collection?"

"We miss hanging in the library," Xander reasoned.

"Wait," Willow called, "Oz, you have to tell us who's right, me or Xander?"

"Willow's right. So, Giles--"

Xander came to his feet. "Oz! My man! What happened to male solidarity?"

"Okay, so Xander's right. Giles, abo--"

Now Willow jumped to her feet. "But Oz! You're my boyfriend!"

"Obviously I'm missing something. What're you arguing about?"

"Xander says that _Monopoly_ is better game than _Chutes and Ladders_ and I disagree. Who's right?"

With a shake of his head and an eye-roll, Giles went up to his bedroom.

"_Monopoly_ or _Chutes and Ladders_, huh?"

Xander and Willow nodded solemnly.

"I'm actually a _Barrel of Monkeys_ kinda man myself." 

"_WHAT?!_"

Oz ran upstairs after the Watcher. "Giles!"

Fin[ear] (finir)


	23. Thoughtless Words

Thoughtless Words

_Part twenty-three of the Foolish Games Series_.

Willow pulled her legs up onto the couch as Buffy tried to look more serious in the armchair across from her. "Okay Willow, this is total free association."

" 'Kay."

"So anything that comes to mind is perfectly . . .perfect."

"Gotcha."

"Anything at all."

"Uh huh."

"Doesn't matter what--"

"_Buffy_! I got it. Let's start."

The Slayer smoothed an imaginary hair from her brow. "Okay. Uh, here we go. Apples."

"Oranges."

"Flowers."

"Roses."

"Uh," Buffy, looked through her 3x5 cards for a better selection of words. "Okay. Red."

"Head."

"Wolf."

"Cage."

"Laconic."

"Oz."

"Nail polish"

"Oz's hands."

"Nine."

"Oz's guitar."

"Beer."

"Oz."

"Oz?!" Buffy gave her friend a pleading look. "How does 'Beer' remind you of Oz?!"

Willow shrugged. "I guess because he doesn't drink?"

A hand to her forehead, Buffy could only sigh. "Let's try again, huh?

"Chains."

"Oz."

"Moon."

"Oz."

"Chocolate ice cream."

"Oz."

"Okay, Wills, explain that one."

"Well me and Oz went out and had chocolate ice cream together last night and--"

"Fine. Whatever. No _way_ this one will make you think of Oz. _Monkeys!_"

"Oz?" Willow squeaked.

"_Argh!_"

"Sorry, Buffy. I guess I'm in love?"

"You'd better be. Jeez, first Anya's too unpredictable and now you, you--"

"Let's try again, Buf. I promise not to think of Oz."

"No, no," Buffy said as she uncurled herself from the chair. "I'll just have to use someone totally and utterly predictable for my psych project."

Willow frowned. "Who?"

"Spike. I may not know much, but understand the vampire mind? I do."

Fin[ear] (finir)


	24. Breaking my Heart

Breaking My Heart

__

Part twenty-four of the Foolish Games series.

"Oh! Buffy! I broke mine," Willow cried to her friend.

Buffy looked up from her half-painted ceramic ornament. "What'd you do Wills? It's all very . . .shattered."

"I can see that! What'm I supposed to do now?"

"You could ask for another one," Dawn offered, butting into their conversation.

Buffy glared at her sister. "Was anyone talking to you? And besides, the Evil Ceramics Lady already said we only got one--

"Just one," Willow and Dawn chorused, "and no more."

Dawn's lips narrowed into a tight frown. "Yup. You're screwed. What were you making anyway?"

"A Wise Man," Willow answered.

"Willow," Buffy said with an air of surprise, "how very not-Jewish of you."

"Okay, so I've always had a thing for the wise men. I mean they have their own song and everything."

Xander wandered over. "What's this I hear about Wise Men? I'm a man. I'm wise." A distant female snort followed his boasting. "I heard that!" he said, heading back to his table and to Anya.

With a sigh Buffy said, "Oh yeah, I can see how this relationship is all good for Xander's self-esteem."

Willow frowned. "I thought you liked Anya?"

"I do!" Buffy said brightly. "Now Xander doesn't just take our slights and insults, he stands up to us like a man." She pulled her face down into her impersonation of, what looked like to Dawn and Willow, _Giles'_ serious face and made heavy grunting noises.

Dawn shook her head. "Not like that I hope," she said turning away.

"C'mon, Buffy, this is serious," Willow said, once again feeling sorry for herself. "I was gonna give my Wise Man to Oz. See, that's his orange hair. And…and that speck over there? I painted the nails black."

Buffy squinted hard at the floor. "Oh, yeah. I can see'em. Sorta."

"Well they _were_ nails. A whole hand even."

"So what's that brown thing?"

Willow beamed. "I was painting a guitar on his back. I figure if Oz is one of the Wise Men he'd probably be the one to make up their theme song."

"Hmm. Not a bad idea."

Willow clicked her tongue. "Now it's a broken one. _Sigh_. I guess I'll just watch you guys finish yours and--"

"Hey Wills."

She turned. "Oz! We were just talking about you," she said as she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.

"Cool. Hey, I heard from a pretty good source that you broke your ornament."

Willow sighed heavily. "Yeah. Who told you?"

"Anya. She heard it fall. Apparently she was gonna come take a look but Xander beat her to it. Then there was this whole thing about the unlikelihood of there being actual Wise Men. That it was probably Wise _Women_ and Xander could in no way relate." At the blank stares he was getting he said, "Yeah, that was pretty much my feeling."

Buffy scratched the back of her neck. "I said I liked her. Never said _anything_ about understanding her." Shaking her head she went back to their table.

"Anyway," Oz fished around in his pocket, "I got you this," and pulled out a ceramic heart.

"Oz, for me?"

He smiled.

"Thank you!" She threw her arms around his neck. "But what about you? I can't take your ornament away?"

"No worries. Xander's keeping an eye on mine. I picked this up on my way here."

"The Evil Ceramics Lady let you have two?!"

"Mmm, 'let' is a very strong word."

Willow clapped a hand over her mouth. "You stole for me?"

"I think 'stole' is kinda strong too. I mean, I left money and everything."

Willow rushed Oz, squeezing with all her might. "I can't believe you've begun a life of crime. For me! Thank you, Oz!" she said, dropping a kiss on his ear -- the only part of his anatomy she could actually get to.

"Willow. Breathe."

"I'm fine."

"Me, Willow. Me breathe."

She let him go suddenly. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"S'okay." He rubbed his neck wondering if Devon had enough makeup to cover the bruises he'd have by that night's gig. "Just don't go breaking my heart, huh?"

"No way. Not ever."

[In]Fin[ite]

***

If you want to know when I'm updating this and all my stories, please join the Yahoo! Group, Vashti's Stories.


	25. Took Your Coat Off

Took Your Coat Off

_Part twenty-five of the Foolish Games series_.

§§§

"Baby…remind me why we're doing this again?" Oz asked as he levered his drunken load higher on his arm.

Willow, on the other side answered: "Because it's my turn to Spike-sit?"

"I thought we had pretty much stopped that when he got a chip."

"Oh, um…" She broke off as her side of Spike began to slip. "Uh, because no one else really wanted to?"

"You'd think alcohol wouldn't effect vampires," Oz grunted. Even with his enhanced strength as a werewolf, Spike was a heavy lush.

"Oh but it does, mate," Spike said.

Frowning, Willow came to a halt. Oz didn't complain. "Hey, if you can talk, why can't you walk on your own?"

"Dunno, Luv, why can't I?"

Willow shook her head. "Oy."

"C'mon, baby," Oz said, taking more of Spike's weight onto himself. "Let's just get him in the van and to his crypt."

"You guys," Spike slurred, "you guys are just the best."

Willow attempted to make the crazy-sign one handed. "Yeah, we know."

Oz made a face as they trudged toward the van, doing his best to make Willow laugh.

"Stop that!"

_Success!_ "Almost there," he mumbled.

"Great…" Spike said, "m'head's starting to hurt. I need a drink."

Willow made a sound of disgust. "Hey, that's what got you here in the first place, Mister!"

"Don't get me wrong, Luv…I've enjoyed it e-mense-- immenz-- i-mez--"

"Immensely?"

Spike tried to pat Willow only to slap Oz's face. "That's a girl."

Willow bit her lower lip and looked over at her boyfriend. _You okay?_ she mouthed.

"Let's just say I'm glad we're here. C'mon, Spike, in ya go." Getting him in the van was easier than they'd thought it would be.

"He just kinda…rolls," Willow said, cocking her head in an attempt to look at Spike straight on. It wasn't working. Sighing she followed Oz into the front of the van.

Spike was snoring before they'd even gone a block. Despite his consistent sawing, Willow and Oz fell into a companionable silence. A warm night in Sunnydale with nothing trying to break into the van was a good one by Hellmouth standards, Willow thought as she let down her window. She didn't notice Oz stealing looks from the corner of his eyes. Her red hair swirled around her face in their manmade breeze, shining jewel-bright in the streetlamps.

"Are we here already?" Spike asked drunkenly.

"Yup, good old Shady Pines Cemetery," Willow answered as she and Oz climbed out of the van. "Do you think you can walk, Spike? I guess that's a yes," she said, watching him bound out of the side of the van.

"Yeah, Luv, I think I can--"

Oz was there in an impressive instant to catch him.

"Thanks, mate."

Willow frowned. "So…not sober yet." Oz shook his head in agreement. With a sigh, Willow came around to help her boyfriend with their undead dead-weight. "Someone owes us. They owe us big."

"The Dingoes are playing in Pasedena next week," Oz said, "…get Xander to take over the Spike-watch?"

"That sounds good. I mean—"

"Hey! I'm not a puppy!" Spike protested loudly, and almost without slurring. "I can bloody well take care of myself."

Willow rolled her eyes as she gave Spike's weight to Oz so she could shoulder open the door to Spike's crypt, then she went back and helped Oz drag him inside. "Couldn't we just toss him here?"

"Tempting." Oz caught her eyes over Spike's head.

"Don't you—"

Willow cut him off. "Oh give us some credit, Spike. _We're_ the good guys, remember." They helped him down the short flight of stairs.

"Good to who?" he asked suggestively, waggling his dark brows.

Even before he felt a sudden shift in weight distribution, before the first fist could settle on one delicate hip or the Resolve face turned into the You Are So Getting It Buster! face, Oz was shooing Willow out of the crypt.

"But did you hear what he said to me! He…he _insinuated_."

"I know," Oz said as he gently maneuvered his girlfriend out of the crypt. "You wait in the van and I'll finish putting Spike to bed, okay?"

Throwing Spike one last glare, Willow agreed. "But don't think this is over you, you…you Bleached Wonder!"

"Hey!" Spike protested from the floor, having managed to slide down the pillar Oz had propped him against.

Oz almost had Willow out the crypt when she threw back, "Wait until I tell Buffy!"

"And what's Fluffy gonna do to me?"

"Something…something really really not nice!"

Although he couldn't see it, Oz mirrored Spike's incredulous look. "And I thought I was the one who was supposed to be three sheets out. You didn't slip the bird a toddy while I wasn't looking, did you?" he asked Oz.

"You aren't drunk."

Spike looked left. Looked right. Tried to follow the train of thought that had led to that particular conclusion with his finger and got cross-eyed. "Huh?"

"You're stone cold sober, Spike."

He made a rude noise. "And you came to this bloody brilliant conclusion based on what?"

"Werewolf, Spike. I can smell you."

The blond slapped his forehead. "Right! Keep forgettin' that." Spike rose from the floor bonelessly, like a marionette pulled on strings. "Most of the werewolves I've known were all about wreaking bloody havoc with their three-day Get Out of Sanity Free pass."

If Spike was expecting a rise out of Oz, he was sorely disappointed. "Ah well, guess the jig is up then."

"A little."

"So why'd you go with it for so long if you knew?"

"Why did you bother to pretend for so long?" Oz tossed back.

Spike shrugged. "Bored mostly. None of the other demons want to play now that I go after'em with you lot. Call me a poncy traitor. Well, no, only Yorn says that, but you get the drift."

Oz gave him a half-nod. "I figured the company couldn't hurt."

"Yeah well…I'd tell you to tell Willow I was sorry, but I wouldn't mean it."

"I understand."

"I may be chipped but it doesn't mean I'm not evil."

"I know," Oz said, turning to leave.

"Hey! You be good to her."

Oz pivoted on his heel. "Why do you care how I treat Willow?" Even putting the idea that he might purposely hurt Willow out into the air pained Oz, despite the nonchalance of his question.

"Red's been good to me. Or as good to a vampire as a human can be. Didn't rub it in when I couldn't bite her proper. Even let me have a second go which is more than most blokes in my situation can ask for."

"You mean a vampire."

"I mean a man. Period. Lovesick fools though we become, we spend most of our time being pure idiots trying to deny it. Red was better to me in those 10 minutes before she ran screaming down the hall than most of the women, vamp and human, mind, have been to me in a hundred and fifty years."

"She never told me she let you try again," Oz said more to himself than to Spike.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Spike said as he shrugged out of his leather duster. He felt around the pockets for a cigarette, tapped it, then stuck one between his lips. "That's just Red for you, always tryin' to make you feel better even when there's no better to feel." He lit the cigarette.

It was one of the reason Oz loved her.

"I told her then that I wouldn't've drained her. Wouldn't've killed her." Spike caught the cigarette between his fingers and blew out a long plume of smoke. "She's a keeper, that one is."

"I know."

"And I meant it when I said you be good to her."

"I will."

"Because if you don't, chip or no chip, I'll rip your bloody throat out." And from the casual way Spike said it, Oz was sure he meant it.

"No worries here, man." He left.

A cross in the face made him take a step back from the driver's side of the van. "Oh Oz! It's you."

"Yup."

"Is Spike okay."

Last Oz had seen Spike, the blond had been looking for a beer he thought he'd set beside the laz-y-boy chair earlier that evening. "He's fine."

"Good. Because he's…he's a turd. A toad. A-- Oh! What if I turned him into a toad? It's a classic. No one will mind. I bet Buffy will thank me…"

He let her babble on as they drove out of the cemetery and toward the dorm. Eventually they drifted back into the companionable silence that always seemed to be hovering around the edges of their relationship – ready to dissipate at a moment's notice but always welcoming. The world that was theirs alone.

"Oz?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Is Spike really okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I know it's probably crazy but…I kinda worry about him."

Oz reached across, took Willow's hand and kissed it.

Fin(ite)


	26. Crazy Like That

Crazy Like That  
_Twenty-sixth and final part of the Foolish Games series_.  
_Dedicated to Little Faith & Her Beloved, Emilie & Colin, Shannon & Sarah & Lena and all the OzMIAns_

"Oz, my man, nervous a little?" Xander asked sarcastically as he watched his friend pace restlessly across the floor. They were waiting in the Summers' living room for Buffy and Willow to come down. Anya was to meet them at the Bronze. Or the Magic Box. "Hey, Oz, is An- Oz is Anya supposed- I mean is- Oz, buddy, could you stop pacing for a second. Thinking is becoming a real issue where you're concerned."

"Huh? Oh."

"You know pacing's not really like you."

"No, it's not," Oz agreed.

Xander let out a semi-exasperated sigh. "O-kay. Now that _that's_ settled: Is Anya supposed to be meeting us here or are we supposed to be meeting her at the Magic Box?"

"Magic Box."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

_"Oz."_

"What?"

"Then why'd you say the Magic Box?"

Oz shrugged. "You wanted an answer. I chose one?"

Xander rolled his eyes and collapsed into a chair. "Doesn't matter, either way she's gonna yell at- Hey! It's the girls! Look Oz, it's the girls. Maybe you'll give my poor eyeballs a break and stop pacing now?"

"Yeah, Oz," Buffy colluded, "why for the pacing?"

"Just, you know, a bit anxious."

Willow went around Buffy and gave her boyfriend a hug. "Oh, just because really big important record execs are coming to tonight's performance to hear The Dingoes play and this could make or break the rest of your career doesn't mean you should . . . worry. Oh my God, now I'm nervous." Willow turned to her best friend. "Buffy!"

"Down Wills. You're not even performing," Buffy reminded her.

"Sympathy nerves."

Xander stood up. "C'mon guys, everything's gonna be fine! Just fine I tell you." He wrapped his arms around Buffy and Willow. "Now we're gonna all hop in the Oz-van and head over to the Magic Box, pick up my girl then watch as the Dingoes make music history. Okay?"

Buffy and Willow each gave Xander a quizzical look.

"What'd I say?"

"Anya's meeting us at the Bronze," Buffy said.

"Really? Woo!" He slumped onto the girls' shoulders. "Load off my mind."

The three wandered toward the front door. Oz caught Willow's hand. She slipped from under Xander's arm just as they were walking out.

Sliding her arms around Oz's waist and she leaned her head quickly on his shoulder. "It'll all go right anyway, won't it? Oz?"

He closed the door, still open just in front of them, and pushed himself out of Willow's grasp.

"Oz?" A tremor ran unchecked through her voice.

He stared at her so long, Willow became very aware of her breathing, of the way her fingers were half-curled in on her hand, that her hair tickled the back of her neck, that her fingers itched to uncurl themselves but at the same time she just couldn't. Just couldn't.

"Marry me."

Willow took a swaying step forward. "Huh?"

Oz closed the distance between them. "Marry me, Willow.

"Please." The last: soft, almost pleading, although Oz's eyes never left hers and their mouths were only a few breaths apart. "Please."

With a small cry Willow threw herself at her lover. "Yes," she whispershouted into his neck.

They walked out, arms around each other's waists, Willow's head on Oz's shoulder. And apparently almost no time had passed at all because Buffy and Xander, arguing companionably, hadn't noticed a thing.

(Serial killer) End

* * *

Author's note: It's over! I have to thank every single last person who read this and especially everyone who reviewed! I know it feels like I've been writing forever, and I have, but finally we have closure. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have. If you want more Oz-love, in particular, I suggest joining the OzMIA at Yahoo Groups. Again, thank you so much everyone!


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